"As true as I stand here," said Mr. Clarkson, smiting his chest, and
shook hands again.

Long after his visitor had gone he sat gazing in a brooding fashion at
the fire. As a single man his wants were few, and he could live on his
savings; as the husband of Mrs. Phipps he would be compelled to resume
the work he thought he had dropped for good three years before.
Moreover, Mrs. Phipps possessed a strength of character that had many
times caused him to congratulate himself upon her choice of a husband.

Slowly but surely his fetters were made secure. Two days later the widow
departed to spend six weeks with a sister; but any joy that he might have
felt over the circumstance was marred by the fact that he had to carry
her bags down to the railway station and see her off. The key of her
house was left with him, with strict injunctions to go in and water her
geraniums every day, while two canaries and a bullfinch had to be removed
to his own house in order that they might have constant attention and
company.

"She's doing it on purpose," said Mr. Smithson, fiercely; "she's binding
you hand and foot."

Mr. Clarkson assented gloomily. "I'm trusting to you, George," he
remarked.

"How'd it be to forget to water the geraniums and let the birds die
because they missed her so much?" suggested Mr. Smithson, after
prolonged thought.

Mr. Clarkson shivered.